Daddy's Girl
by Skylark3
Summary: A What Might Be if Superman settled down and had children who have to deal with powers of their own. Narrated in first person by eldest daughter Shika.
1. A New Power

To avoid confusion, you should know I've never read any of the Superman comics. This fic is based on my knowledge of the series from shows like Smallville. It's not a direct Smallville fanfic, though, so I'm posting it here instead. Not a one-shot for once - more chapters will hopefully come in the near future! This is also the first fanfic I've written for anythingin the last four years, so don't be too harsh, please!

Standard disclaimer here, blah blah blah. You surely know the deal.

----

**DADDY'S GIRL**

My first kiss was perfect. It's an overused cliché, but I felt that I was walking on air. The lucky boy was one Jason French, who I'd been crushing on for at least the last six months. He wasn't the most popular guy at school, or even the best looking. In fact, he was the quiet type most of the time, except during drama class when anybody could have mistaken him for being the most hyperactive person in our entire junior year. It was in drama class that I first noticed him, and I'd been smitten ever since.

I'd dropped hints for months in his direction. At first he hadn't seemed to notice at all, but when it did come, it came in a bang. Taking me completely by surprise, he pulled out all the stops at the dress rehearsal for our school play, pulled out a guitar and announced he'd dedicated a song to me. He even wrote it himself! It was the most romantic thing anyone had _ever_ done for me, and my heart crumbled then and there. We arranged to go on a date Saturday afternoon.

Which brings me back to the kiss. It was the perfect ending to a perfect date – an afternoon at the movies (not that I could concentrate much on the movie, since all my thoughts were on the boy in the next seat along), with plenty of hot buttered popcorn to share!

I was certain this was the happiest moment of my life. Being with the boy you love, kissing him for the very first time… I felt like I could fly. The kiss lasted for a long, long time, but when it finished I didn't want it to stop. When I did pull away, it felt wrong.

Really wrong. And not just because I already missed the kiss. It was the perspective. As I looked across into my boyfriend's eyes, I frowned, because I was used to looking up, tilting my head back. I resisted the urge to gulp.

"Close your eyes, Jason," I said, quickly, and took the opportunity to look down at my feet. They were a handspan above the floor.

I really _was_ flying! Crap. Perhaps the author of Peter Pan really had something there with his 'think happy thoughts' idea. Needless to say, this was the first time this had ever happened to me. Suddenly my good mood slipped away, replaced with anxiety. We were out in public – someone could walk by and see me at any moment! In Peter Pan this mood swing ought to have been enough to send me crashing to the ground, but here was the difference between fiction and reality – I didn't know how to get back down. Hell, I didn't even know what I'd done to start flying in the first place.

"When do I get to open my eyes?" Jason asked, grinning. I started to panic.

_Get down, get down!_ I thought desperately, to no avail. I started flapping my arms, pushing upwards against the air in an effort to go downwards. I really should have known that one would never work, and it didn't.

If my reaction seems a little strange to you, let me explain. I'm only half human. Genetically speaking, fifty percent of my DNA is from an alien species. You wouldn't have heard of me, but everybody knowsof my father. They call him Superman.He's virtually indestructible with a whole range of alien powers. Not only can he fly, but he has amazing strength, speed, x-ray vision and the ability to shoot fire from his eyes. To me, he's just dad, though he never kept his other identity a secret from me.

My younger brother and I didn't inherit all these powers, but we got a couple each. As far as I'd known, I'd gotten a milder dose of Dad's strength. Roger inherited the speed, and bizarrely, an ability to control water that even Dad didn't have. Nobody quite knew where that came from. Neither of us ever really got hurt physically, but we both had a bad dose of the chicken pox when we were little. And we thought that was it.

But now I was flying, something I hadn't anticipated in the slightest. (I tried to fly enough times when I was little that I'd long assumed I would never have the ability.)

"_Shi_ka!" Jason said playfully. "What are you up to?"

"Just give me one more moment," I pleaded. At the same time, I heard footsteps approaching from the corner of the cinema. Crap. Crapcrapcrap.

If I couldn't put my feet back on the ground, I'd just have to get out of there before I was seen. Unlike Dad, I didn't have a colourful costume to hide behind. I can't even explain what I did next – probably I was propelled out of a mixture of fear and dread – but I found myself flying high into the air. From this vantage I could see the footsteps were from the first new trickle of cinema-goers leaving the building. Somehow, I managed to drift myself over to the roof of the cinema in the nick of time, just as the first one rounded the bend. Only _now _did my power of flight decide to cancel itself out, leaving me effectively stranded with no way to get down.

A thin voice sounded from below. "Shika? I'm going to have to look now."

I sat on the roof with a sinking heart, watching my boyfriend open his eyes and look around in a bewildered manner for a long, long time. He didn't think of looking up. Probably just as well. But when he finally gave up on calling my name and walked away, long after the other patrons had left, I buried my head in my arms and started to cry. I knew I'd never be able to tell him my secret.

It hurt more than I'd expected.

----


	2. Escorted Home

Part Two here. I also need to thank Knight Lancer for pointing out the extra powers I missed. So thanks! From now on I'll write with those included, though it probably won't have much impact on the story. If I get time, I'll go back and add them into the first chapter too.

-------

I would rather have slunk home through the back door alone, but Mum met me at the front later that night, looking anxious and unamused. I couldn't look her in the eye, so I stared at my feet. Never had I felt more ashamed.

"Dean Carter, Metropolis Police."

"Oh, Shika. Are you alright?"

Mum stepped forward and took me into her arms, rubbing her palm across my back in a nervous hug. My own arms hung limp at my sides, though. Over the years I'd imagined up a great many awkward situations and prepared myself to handle them, but this one in particular had never crossed my mind.

"I'm sorry to inconvenience you, Mrs Kent," said the officer, "but I was hoping to speak to you and your husband about your daughter… ah, with Shika present, of course. It's a bit of a worrying situation for all involved and we want to make sure things are followed up properly. For safety reasons, you understand."

I felt Mum's gaze on me, but didn't look up. I knew the look that would have faced me.

"Of course," she said, a bit icily, I thought. "Come in, Dean – may I call you Dean?" Without waiting for an answer, she barged on: "I'm afraid my husband's not in at the moment, but I'm sure I can offer you some coffee. Come in."

"Thanks." The policeman doffed his cap as he entered, hanging it on the hook by the door. His hair was all matted underneath from a long day at work. "Coffee sounds welcome, but don't bother – I shouldn't be staying long." Indeed, when we made our way into the kitchen, he hung around the edge of the table without sitting down, even though Mum and I both took a seat.

"So let's get you up to speed, Mrs Kent. Were you informed of your daughter's incident at all?"

"No, I was not!" rumbled Mum, her tone of voice suddenly becoming hard. "All I heard was that my daughter was being escorted home. Never mind that I was worried sick since the first call - no one's given me any more information than that. Your men at the station wouldn't tell me a thing."

Oh no, I thought. Mum rang the police station. She must have assumed the worst. That I'd had an vandalising 'accident' with my strength, or worse, been caught using my power. I did my best not to use my strength – I'd had the importance of secrecy drilled into my head over and over by means of a thousand parental lectures – but sometimes it was unavoidable. The police escort had nothing to do with either scenario, actually – but Mum wouldn't have known that.

The policeman smoothed his hair with one rough hand. "Well, let me assure you that Shika has done nothing wrong, Mrs Kent. She's not in trouble with the state. However…" and here he paused for a moment to let the good news sink in before he continued, "- we didn't want to worry you too soon. We found her attempting to commit suicide downtown this evening. Fortunately unsuccessful, as you can see."

Mum finally caught my eye across the table. _Suicide?_ she mouthed, incredulously. I shook my head violently.

The officer, not catching my response, took Mum's reaction to be from shock.

"That's right. We found her ready to jump from the top of the High Street cinema. The good news, obviously, is that your daughter is safe and well. But it is a cause for concern. Are you aware, for example, of any unusual behaviour from Shika recently?"

Mum glanced from me to the officer, dumbfounded. Of all the things it could have been, attempted suicide plainly hadn't been on her register. I couldn't blame her, since suicide had been the last thing on my mind earlier that day as well.

"Now, wait a minute," said she. "Isn't it possible that there was a misunderstanding going on somewhere? Did you question my daughter about her behaviour at all?"

"I'm afraid there's no mistake, ma'am. More people attempt suicide every year in this city. Sad story, but statistics don't lie. I've seen too many cases myself to be in any doubt. But Shika seems to be a good, sensible girl from what I can see. It's probably a problem hidden beneath the surface – if you can deal with that, she'll certainly grow up to be a fine woman."

Again, Mum's eyes flicked towards me, her jaw working as she tried to find words. It was a rare thing indeed to render my mother speechless, but I looked away nevertheless and also waited in silence, denying nothing for the time being. This was hard on me, too.

"What we at the force usually recommend in situations like these is for those affected to book into at least a few counselling sessions, in addition to joining up with a support group. Given your daughter's young age, however, the counselling would probably be best in her case. It'll help her work through any issues at school, etc."

But I didn't have any issues at school, I thought to myself. Though a shrink would probably have a field day with me if they knew the truth.

"Here's the card of a friend of mine. She happens to be an excellent counsellor, very highly qualified. I highly recommend Shika to see her. If you feel you need more, however, I can also provide you with our standard list of suicide psychologists -"

"No, no, that's fine," said Mum, interrupting. "We'll, er, get in touch. Is there anything else I should know about?"

"Not today, ma'am. I only need confirmation that young Shika's been delivered home safe, and I can get out of your hair once and for all. How does that sound?" The officer pulled an electronic clipboard from his inside pocket. "Your signature just here will do, Mrs Kent." He held it out while Mum signed.

"I expect you'll be coming by to check on Shika again, is that right?" she remarked, and handed back the pen.

But the officer just smiled. "Oh, no. Not unless you feel we ought to. There's not much the police can do, really. The best thing your daughter needs right now is love and attention from her family. And a little counselling, of course. She's gone through quite an ordeal."

Throughout the entire exchange, I had said nothing, quite content to be talked about without contributing anything to the conversation. I felt as if anything I did say would potentially complicate the situation, which really didn't need any extra complications right now. On the other hand, however, I was just itching for the man to hurry up and leave so that I could talk to Mum openly.

But he was taking his time, checking Mum's signature – then checking it again. "You're not Lois Kent?" he asked. "Your signature's not checking out."

"It's Lane," said Mum. "Sorry. Name I work under. You'll find it's properly registered as such back at the station along with my husband's name."

"Lane? Whoa, hold the reins – you're _that_ Lois Lane? Editor of the _Planet_?"

Mum nodded.

"Well, whaddya know? I love your work! Some of those editorials of yours, I must admit… it's great to read a paper that digs back at big business. My boss says your staff are incorruptible – very commendable, very good! Well, how about that, eh?"

"Maybe I should have let you keep calling me Kent," said Mum, with the tiniest wry smile. "But thanks. It's the _Daily Planet's_ intention to work with the police, after all."

The officer nodded gravely. "Hopefully not on a repeat of tonight." He started heading for the front door, picking up his cap on the way. He placed it back on his head with an able twist. At the door, he turned to me directly for the first time since we'd come inside.

"You take care, now. Shika, Mrs Lane – ah, Kent – look after yourselves." And with that, he was gone.

Mum closed the door behind him and leaned on it with a sigh. She waited until we could hear the police car going back down the driveway before turning on me with the Look. Honestly, even though Dad was the one whose eyes could kill, Mum's glare was definitely the most scary. It was the same one she used to stare down politicians. I'd gone through my entire childhood dreading the Look, because I knew it meant extra chores would probably follow afterwards.

"Care to explain?" she asked.


End file.
